


The Hotel Glen Capri

by Bdoing, mademoisellePlume, Vinnocent



Series: Heroes and Wolves [9]
Category: Animorphs - Katherine A. Applegate, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abandonment, Ableism, Blood and Gore, F/M, Hallucinations, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Panic Attacks, Psychological Trauma, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-17
Updated: 2014-07-17
Packaged: 2018-02-09 07:32:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1974252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bdoing/pseuds/Bdoing, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mademoisellePlume/pseuds/mademoisellePlume, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vinnocent/pseuds/Vinnocent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Cassie helps escort the track team to their away game in hopes of protecting Scott and his friends from an Alpha attack, everyone gets more than they bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dark Desert Highway

**Author's Note:**

> And this is where we finally catch up to the fics on ani-wolf.tumblr.com. That tumblr updates every two days, so this AO3 series will update at a similar rate.

“That’s it,” Derek snarled to his betas as they watched the cop cars and SWAT members swarm the high-priced apartment complex. “We are _done_ with Scott McCall.”

\-- --

“Okay, remember the hand movement I taught you? Isaac step in closer; I’m not gonna bite you today,” Erica was ordering Boyd and Isaac over by the track team bus. She was holding out her phone to capture them. Boyd had a distinct expression of irritation combined with the sort of compliance one only grants their significant other. Isaac just looked confused. “Okay _go_ ,” she instructed before taking a video of them making gestures at the camera.

Giggling maniacally, she stepped away from her boys while tapping at her phone. “Hey, Stiles!” she called just as Stiles was throwing his duffle bag into the storage compartment in the belly of the bus.

He glanced back at her. “What?” he demanded suspiciously.

“Does the sheriff know sign language?” she asked, showing her phone to him like that would actually explain anything.

Stiles gave her a strange look. “I don’t know. Someone at the station probably does,” he said. “Why?”

She went back to fussing with her phone. “Just checking in case Mom doesn’t get the joke,” she said.

“That was sign language?” Isaac asked. “What does it mean?”

“It means ‘We’re not a gang,’” Boyd told him.

Erica giggled in mischievous delight. At that moment, Finstock clasped Boyd on the shoulder. “Hey, man,” Finstock greeted him. “Good to have you back on the team.”

“I wasn’t on the team before…” Boyd muttered.

“Just remember, if you ever think about quitting again…”

“I didn’t quit. I wasn’t on the team. You picked me out of the bleachers.”

“... don’t quit. Just come to me, and we’ll work something out.”

“Stop touching me,” Boyd said, pulling away.

Coach Finstock nodded and patted Boyd on the back twice before moving on. “Good talk,” he said. “Good talk.”

“I don’t get it,” said Stiles, turning to Scott. “One day, she’s meek, shy, little Erica who likes me. Then, she gets bitten, and she’s big, loud, sexy-in-a-terrifying-way Erica who wants to punch me. Then, she runs away with Boyd, and she comes back as took-it-down-from-11-to-like-9 Erica who totally dismisses my existence. And now, suddenly, she’s talking to me again?”

Being totally within werewolf hearing range, Erica glanced toward him and winked before turning back to her friends.

“She’s talking to you to make sure I notice how much she’s _not_ talking to me,” Scott grumbled. “Derek told them to stay away from me, but I asked them all to come to this game where we can keep an eye on each other. She’s trying to make it clear that her loyalty’s with Derek, even if she _is_ coming along. Probably because Isaac has to go anyway.”

“Wow,” said Stiles. “ _That_ pissed?”

“Yeah, Stiles,” Scott said exasperatedly. “They were _amped_ to kill that pack. They were mad and vengeful and…” He glanced toward the three betas, who were keeping surreptitious eyes on him. He grabbed Stiles’s arm and dragged him several more yards away from the bus. “ _And_ I have a feeling that at least Isaac and maybe Erica or even Boyd thought killing alphas might give them a boost, whether it made them alphas or not,” he confessed with a lowered voice. “If it made them alphas, it would've gotten them more independence.”

“You had to drag me away and whisper to tell me that?” Stiles laughed. “Dude, _I_ could’ve told you that. Isaac and Erica are not remotely subtle.”

“It’s not funny,” Scott groaned. “You can’t just go around killing people!”

“So you called the cops like a great big snitch?” Stiles guessed.

Scott shook his head. “Derek called me in to help them, since they’re down Peter and need as many as possible. I tried to convince him not to, but they wouldn’t listen. So I said that I would.” Scott shrugged evasively. “And then I told Braeden,” he admitted.

“I didn’t know you had her number,” Stiles said.

“I… don’t,” Scott admitted. “But she’s been stalking me, so…”

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “Convenient. So then the governor’s secret black ops team busted the apartment?”

“No, _then_ Deucalion called me,” said Scott.

Stiles made a poor attempt at hiding how much that scared him. “And he had your number how?” he quipped nervously.

Scott shrugged. “The phone book?” he guessed. “He wanted to meet one-on-one in this abandoned mall to talk things out.”

“So you said no,” said Stiles.

“I said yes,” Scott admitted. “But an hour later, way before we were supposed to meet, Isaac comes home and tells me what happened. The cops totally swamped the apartment. Made arrests. Sent everybody to temporary housing while the apartment was cleared. Derek is _pissed_.”

“You said _YES_?!” Stiles cried angrily. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Back among the group by the bus, Coach Finstock pulled Danny aside. “Hey,” he said, looking somewhat concerned. “Have you seen Eric and Adam anywhere?”

Danny blinked at him. “You mean… Ethan and Aiden?” he asked.

“Yeah, them,” Finstock said, nodding emphatically. “Have you seen them? Anywhere? At all?”

Danny chewed his lip nervously and glanced at his phone for the millionth time that day. “No, sir,” he mumbled.

“Okay, but… Dad didn’t bust anybody last night,” Stiles told Scott.

“Yeah, exactly,” said Scott. “Nobody knows who those ‘cops’ were. No one saw the arrests take place. There have been _no_ reports on the news. No one has seen or heard from the alphas. Braeden hasn’t returned to following me around. All I can find out about the governor is that she canceled a press conference this morning, saying she was going to be out of town.”

“Sketchy,” Stiles said, and Scott agreed.

“McCall!” Finstock called out, making Scott jump. “Where’s your chaperone?” he demanded. “It’s time to go. Everyone’s ready.”

Scott stared at him, confused. “What?”

“Here, Coach,” a voice called out behind them. “Sorry. Long line at the post office.” They turned to see Cassie looking… well, it still wasn’t fashionable, but it definitely gave an impression. The trousers were a form-fitting, black material with hints of shiny threads woven through in a small grid design. A bulky bomber jacket hid that she was probably wearing the same material as a shirt. She’d traded in her usual hiking boots for tight-fitting combat boots. If the outfit wasn’t obviously militaristic on its own, the hints of removed insignias certainly gave it that appearance.

“Sosanya?” Finstock asked, pronouncing the name incredibly poorly. He hurried up to her and shoved a hand out toward her, which she firmly and briefly shook. “Glad to have ya,” he said cheerfully. “Y’know, we so rarely have any parental… er… guardian… um… y’know volunteers.”

“Really?” Cassie said mildly. “With your personality?”

Finstock grinned at her, nodding. “Well, we’re about ready, so hurry on up.” He turned and clapped loudly. “Ladies! Your hair looks fine! Now _get on the bus_! This five hour trip will end sooner the sooner we get started!”

Cassie stared after him as Scott and Stiles caught up to her. The betas seemed to be meandering over as well. “Is he always so…?”

“Charming?” Stiles suggested with a smirk. Then, eyes combing over her disbelievingly, he asked, “What are you wearing?” the same time Scott asked, “Cassie, what are you doing here?”

“Kevlar and titanium morphing suit,” said Cassie. She smiled at Scott. “And I’m here because you’re not the only one capable of ratting out friends.” She nodded to the squirming Isaac being pulled over toward them by Erica, Boyd trailing behind them both.

“You told her?” Scott asked Isaac.

Isaac shrugged sheepishly. “You said this was about safety in numbers,” he muttered. He gestured to Cassie. “She’s another number.”

“Yeah, she is,” said Scott, surprised. “I didn’t think of that. Thanks.”

“Where do I get one of those?” Erica said, glancing over Cassie’s outfit with clear jealousy.

“Become a tool of the U.S. Air Force,” Cassie suggested. Then, “Or any world military organization, actually.” Then, “Also, that’s not real advice. Please don’t do that.”

“SOSANYA!” Coach screamed at her. Cassie quietly grumbled that that wasn’t how it was pronounced as she headed toward the bus. The kids started after her, but Erica grabbed Stiles’s arm in such a way as to block Scott from moving forward.

Glaring directly at Stiles, Erica said, “Isaac said that he was told that if I joined up on this, I would be provided with a ride. Where is that ride?”

Stiles just stared at her in confusion until Scott reached forward and took his hand, using it to point to Erica’s ride. “Oh this is so third grade,” Stiles griped.

Erica turned to look where indicated. There, of all people, stood Allison Argent (looking vaguely pissed off, glaring at them) and Lydia Martin (looking bored, tapping at an iPad). “I can’t guarantee that everyone will arrive alive,” Erica growled.

“You don’t have to worry,” Scott teased, quickly pulling Stiles toward the bus. “I trust her.”

Scott and Stiles were the last ones aboard the bus. Cassie raised an eyebrow, then glanced out the window at the retreating backs of Erica, Allison, and Lydia. Unlike the lacrosse team, the track team didn’t really get a caravan following them to every game, despite being made up of largely the same people.

As Finstock shouted at everyone to sit down and shut up, the bus driver reached over to pull the door lever. Just then, two hands grabbed the bus door, pinning it in place. Finstock turned toward the newcomers, and Ethan and Aiden grinned back at him. “Sorry we’re late, Coach.”

“Get in and sit down!” Finstock snapped angrily. “You’re doing extra laps next practice.”

Cassie turned to glance back at a worried Scott. This probably wasn’t good.

\-- --

It was only minutes after Melissa arrived home, weary from working overtime, that she heard a knock at the door. She groaned and pried herself off the couch to answer the door. She stared at the woman in front of her. “Yes?” she asked.

“Um, sorry to bother you,” said the woman. “I was just.. Um, I heard I could find Cassandra Sosanya here.”

Melissa frowned suspiciously, her hand tensing on the door handle in preparation to slam it shut. “What do you want with Cassie?” she asked.

The woman started to speak, then swallowed instead. She blinked very fast and took a few quick breaths. Melissa’s hand relaxed. Whatever was going on, Melissa doubted someone would be near tears just before becoming violent. “I…” the woman started. “I have reason to believe that she went to high school with my son.”

Melissa shifted her weight. She looked at the woman with confusion. “If that’s true,” she said, “then so did I.”

The woman’s eyes widened. “Really?” she asked. “At Seven Saints?”

Something twisted in Melissa’s stomach. “Maybe you should come inside,” she said.


	2. Shimmering Light

Five hours. It was meant to be a five hour trip to the other school for the track meet. One jackknifed trailer, eight hours of traffic, and one game delay later, they were parked at the very definition of a seedy motel, boasting the name “Hotel Glen Capri.” The team stared out the bus windows in disbelief.

“I’ve seen worse,” said Stiles.

Cassie glanced back at him. “And here I thought _I_ was a bad liar,” she said. She rubbed her head wearily.

“At least it doesn’t say ‘Bates’,” Danny joked from the seat in front of her.

“Are you okay?” Scott asked Cassie, leaning past Isaac and Boyd’s seat to speak with her.

She smiled gently. “I’m fine,” she assured him. “It’s just heat and stress.”

“Listen up,” said Finstock, standing at the head of the bus. “The meet's been pushed ’til tomorrow. This is the closest motel with the most vacancies and least amount of good judgment when it comes to accepting a bunch of degenerates like yourselves. You'll be pairing up. Choose wisely.” He gazed distrustfully out over the bus. “And I'll have no sexual perversions perpetrated by you little deviants. Got that? Keep your dirty little hands to your dirty little selves!”

Cassie narrowed her eyes. “It’s like he _wants_ you to,” she muttered, and Stiles, Danny, and Greenberg all snickered at that.

Slowly, the students meandered out of the bus, wishing to take as much time as possible to actually arrive at their rooms. Almost as soon as Ethan and Aiden stepped off the bus, Aiden shoved his brother directly at Danny, who raised an eyebrow. “I assumed you’d want to room together?” Danny muttered.

“Uh…” Ethan glanced back at his brother, then shrugged. “He snores,” he said. “I really wouldn’t mind a…” He looked over Danny with what were blatantly bedroom eyes. “... break,” he finished.

“Awesome,” said Greenberg, clapped Aiden on the back as he exited the bus. “Then you won’t mind rooming with me.”

Aiden looked horrified and glanced back at his brother. Ethan shrugged with mock helplessness and a poorly hidden grin, and Danny quickly mimicked him. Before Aiden could protest, they hurried off toward the coach to collect a room key.

Cassie squinted. “That was… _so_ blatant…” she said, and Scott just shrugged. She caught Aiden’s arm as he started to head toward Lydia. “Turn around,” she warned. “Teammates together.”

Aiden gave her a suspicious look. “Arthur!” Coach Finstock shouted. “What are you up to? Get up here and get your key!” Aiden rolled his eyes and went to grab a key from Finstock.

Cassie started to join the girls to go register a room, when Finstock shouted out to her. “Sosanya!” He held out a card toward her. “Here, you have your own room.”

Cassie raised a surprised eyebrow. She decided to shrug it off, and she took the key, saying, “The Air Force never gave me my own room.”

Finstock stared after her in surprise, then turned to Scott, who was reaching for a card. “What the hell does she do?” he asked in a whisper.

Scott glanced at Finstock. Then at Cassie. Then back at Finstock. With a shit-eating-grin, he said, “I think if she told you, she’d have to kill you.”

Finstock nodded and pointed at him before handing him a key card. “Good call,” he agreed. He turned back to the other students, letting the subject drop.

As soon as she shut the door, she collapsed against it. Slowly, she slid down to the floor.

“Good job not letting them see that you’re a nutter,” said Rachel Berenson, sitting on the edge of the bed like her head wasn’t bashed in.

Cassie struggled to take a steadying breath. “I should’ve brought my medication,” she muttered to herself.

“Awe,” Rachel pouted. “But then who would keep me company?”

\-- --

“Braeden?” Scott asked, looking over Stiles’s list of Darach suspects.

“What better cover than helping the cops?” Stiles asked. “Also, she’s powerful and creepy, and yet, according to you, absolutely totally human. Even more human than Cassie, who has a 'weird' scent we now know to be military tech, and Morrell, who you claim doesn’t have one at all.”

Scott frowned, but he didn’t really have any basis for argument. He looked at the next name on the list. “Harris?”

“Just because he’s missing doesn’t mean he’s dead,” Stiles insisted.

“So if he's not dead, our chemistry teacher is out secretly committing human sacrifices?” Scott said with some amusement in his voice.

Stiles snorted. “When he’s not helping pretty ladies burn down buildings with whole families inside for a chance he might get laid?”

“Okay, so he’s evil,” said Scott. “I give you that. But the delusional and/or actually magical kind of evil?”

Stiles hummed to himself as he thought about that. “Okay,” he admitted. “You might have a point there.”

“If Harris _is_ dead, that means all three of the ‘Warrior’ victims were from our school,” Scott pointed out. “What if it's somebody else from school? Like, you remember Matt? We didn't know that he was killing people.”

“Excuse me?” Stiles demanded hostilely. “I'm sorry, _what_? I... yes, we did. I called that from day one, actually.”

“Yeah, but we never really seriously thought that it was Matt,” said Scott.

“I was serious,” Stiles insisted. “I was quite serious, actually. Deadly serious. No one listened to me, and now a bunch of people are dead.”

Scott sighed. Stiles had a point there, too.

“ _But_ ,” said Stiles, “if we’re using the three warriors to guess there’s a school connection, that doesn’t really work because none of the three virgins do.”

Scott put down the list and draped himself backward over edge of the bed. “What about Los Siete Santos?” he asked.

Stiles shrugged. “Well, I know it’s named after Los Siete Santos Fundadores, the seven holy founders of the Servite Order, one of the original five Catholic mendicant orders,” he said. “That’s all from Wikipedia, by the way. But, really, there was probably just a church or mission or monastery there like literally everywhere else in California. It doesn’t sound magical to me.”

Scott smirked. “Really? What church is Beacon Hills named after?” he teased, and Stiles made an unappreciative face at him.

“I’m gonna guess there was a beacon on a hill,” Stiles grumbled. “Towns are usually pretty literal, the names either paying homage to someone related to the place or giving directions. ‘Hey, you know that place with a beacon on a hill?’ ‘Hey, you know that church that’s connected to the servite friars somehow?’”

“Yeah, I get the idea,” said Scott. “So nothing interesting came up?”

“Aside from what I already told you? Not really. I still haven’t gotten out to the library yet,” he admitted. “There was one thing though, among the same kind of forums that talk about alien abductions. But a clue is a clue, I guess. And we know there’s high-end tech involved, so I _guess_ it’s understandable why people thought there were aliens in town.”

“What clue?” asked Scott.

“Someone made a passing comment about there being six saints in Seven Saints,” he said. “Which… I don’t know. There’s just something about it. Like they’re making a reference to something? But the thread continued without anyone replying to that particular comment, and that account hasn’t been active for over a decade.”

Scott glanced at the list again. “Tyler,” he read. "Whoever Tyler is."

“Yeah, that should really be at the top. I just haven’t written a new list yet,” said Stiles.

“He talked to Harris right before he disappeared,” Scott said.

“Yes, I know. Hence the capital letters and underlining.”

“Actually…” Scott mumbled. “We might have a lead on that.”

Stiles glanced across at him, attention suddenly rapt. “Yeah? Who?”

Scott glanced away sheepishly. “Allison…” he mumbled. “I, um, I saw the Argent logo on his jacket.”

Stiles gasped angrily and sat bolt upright. “And you didn’t immediately ask her about it?!” he demanded, gesticulating wildly for emphasis.

Scott frowned. “But what if she doesn’t want to talk to me?”

Stiles rolled her eyes. “Point out that there’s a murderer running around and that is exactly what their stupid code says they won’t stand for?” he suggested.

“Maybe I should just ask Cassie,” Scott suggested.

“She is also on the list,” Stiles pointed out.

“So is _Lydia_ ,” Scott pointed out.

“She was totally controlled by Peter and didn’t even know it!” Stiles argued.

Scott rolled his eyes.

\-- --

“What are you doing?” Allison asked, stepping out of the bathroom to find Erica kneeling at the very top of the bed with her ear tilted toward a corner of the ceiling.

Lydia was already hurrying toward the bathroom. “Thank _god_ ,” she whined. “You take _forever_.”

Erica didn’t reply at first, still listening to whatever. Then, she dropped down onto the bed, scowling at Allison. “So I’m guessing you still haven’t told Scott about Tyler?” she said.

Allison clenched her jaw briefly and glanced just aside of Erica. “I was going to,” she said.

“You know Harris is missing now?” Erica pressed.

“ _Ladies_ ,” Lydia interrupted, standing half-dressed in the bathroom doorway. Allison’s eyes flew wide, and she immediately turned away. Erica just arched an eyebrow at her with an amused smirk. “I am _dying_ to shower, but all the towels here stink of nicotine. Someone be a doll and get me more?” She didn’t wait for an answer before re-entering the bathroom.

Erica turned expectantly to the blushing hunter as the sound of the shower started up.

Allison tried to remember what topic they had been on. “I know that,” she told Erica, “but that’s the one thing I can guarantee Tyler doesn’t have to do with. I _saw_ Harris leave Tyler. He took a cab. He was fine.”

Erica shook her head, rolling her eyes. “Then, you have no reason not to tell Scott,” she said.

“It’s none of your business,” Allison insisted.

Erica shrugged. “Maybe not,” she said. With a cocky grin, she gestured toward the ceiling. “But if I can hear him, I _bet_ he can hear us.” She hopped off the bed and stepped past the gaping Allison. “I’ll go get the princess’s towels while you mull that over.”


	3. My Head Grew Heavy

Erica almost ran smack into Stiles. “Hey,” said Stiles.

Erica looked down at him suspiciously. “Hi,” she said flatly.

“Um…”

“We’re not friends,” she said bluntly.

“Okay,” he said quickly. He stepped aside of her. He turned as he did, so as to keep his back away from her like she was a wild animal. “Okay, I’m just… gonna go… get my snack.”

Erica rolled her eyes. “Good for--"

The were interrupted by a smashing sound. They exchanged glances then hurried toward the sound. But all they found was a shattered snack machine. Erica frowned as she leaned toward the glass, sniffing. “Boyd…” she whispered. She looked confused.

“Wow,” said Stiles. “And here I thought he was the only one of your pack that _didn’t_ have anger issues.” Erica shot him a sharp look, and he swallowed and backed up a step, raising his hands. “Kidding! Obviously… none of you have anger issues. At all. Definitely… never tried to murder anybody.”

With an unamused look, Erica grabbed a bag at random and tossed it to him before heading toward the office.

“And she says we’re not friends,” Stiles mumbled to himself.

\-- --

“You’re not really here,” Cassie said, lying back in her bed.

“Does it really matter?” asked Jake.

“Yes,” she hissed between her teeth. “Because _my_ friends would never be so cruel.”

“Yeah,” David agreed with with a sneer. “You were always the cruelest of them, weren’t you, Cassie?”

She could feel Rachel’s cold fingers tracing up her abdomen, palms pressing more and more firmly until the weight on her chest began to steal space from her lungs. “Don’t you miss us?” she asked in the sort of plaintive tone she only ever used with Cassie. Only with Cassie could she ever be weak.

“Do you know why I got stuck on our first mission?” Tobias asked, his gaze as piercing as ever, and she swore she could feel the ice of his stare in her very soul. “Because I wanted die,” he told her, “but I was too chicken. So, instead, I flew away. Ironic, huh?”

“You got better,” Cassie whispered, tears brimming in her eyes.

“Then, why did we fly away?” asked Ax.

Marco sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned sideways over her, totally ignoring Rachel. Somehow… Somehow, he was so much more substantial than her. He smiled gently down at Cassie. When Cassie looked up at him, her control finally broke, tears streaming down her cheeks. “He looks like you,” she sobbed.

Marco reached forward and wiped her cheek with his thumb. Though, since he wasn’t really there, it didn’t actually accomplish anything. “Ssh,” he whispered. “Sobbing’s for dead people.”

“Then how come Rachel’s the only one of you crying?” Cassie joked, trying to force a laugh out of herself except none of it was really funny at all. She must have a really shitty imagination; it wasn't like Rachel to cry when no one else was.

Slowly, Marco arched down over her until his lips pressed against her ear. “I wonder…” he whispered with a voice like the wind in the Valley.

Suddenly, she was grabbed and pulled upward, though some distant voice in the back of her mind reminded her that she had probably pushed herself up, determined to act out this elaborate fantasy. In the there and then, however, it was Jake who pulled her up, and it Jake who was snarling in her face like the tiger he’d always been. “Don’t you have a job to do?” he demanded angrily.

\-- --

“Is Erica back with the towels, yet?” Lydia called from the bathroom.

“No,” Allison called. “I’ll go see if she actually went.”

“Thank you, dear!”

Allison turned and gasped as she came face-to-face with Scott, who looked tired and somewhat distant. “Scott!” she said. She glanced past him to see that the door was open, though she could swear she’d locked it after Erica left. “What are you doing?” she asked, hoping he hadn’t actually heard her like Erica had taunted.

“Looking for you,” he said. He sounded exhausted and out-of-it.

Allison waited for him to say something else, but he didn’t. “Well…” she said. “You’ve found me. Here… In my room.”

“I’ve been in your room before,” he mumbled. He wasn’t even really looking at her. Was he sleepwalking?

“Um… yes,” she admitted. “My room at home. Back when we were together. Which we’re not anymore.”

“We're still friends, right?” he asks, stepping forward. She steps back, tensing. “We could just be closer friends. Maybe… it could even fix things between us.”

Allison scowled. “Scott. What are you doing?” she asked, trying to keep her heart from racing. Her eyes scanned over him and noted that he was barefoot. “Are you okay?”

“Scott!” Cassie snapped from the doorway.

Suddenly, he appeared to come to, looking around in confusion. He turned to Cassie, and she glowered down at him in exactly the sort of fearless way that Allison always worked so hard to mimic. The sort of way that her mother had always done so effortlessly. “Go back to your room, Scott,” she snarled, pointing angrily outside.

With an apologetic glance toward Allison, Scott bolted from the room like a frightened rabbit.

Cassie watched him go, then turned back to Allison. “Lydia Martin?” she asked.

“Bathroom,” Allison reported.

“Erica Reyes?”

“Getting towels.”

Cassie nodded firmly. “I’ll find her,” she said. “Stay in your--" She glanced briefly aside. Allison followed her gaze, but there was nothing there. “Stay in your room,” Cassie ordered, turning to leave.

It was at that moment that Erica returned, chipper and full of energy. “Hi, strange lady!” she greeted Cassie before ducking around her with an armload of towels. “Hey, Lydia, guess what?” she taunted, knocking on the bathroom door. “This hotel is _perfect_ for you.”

Lydia opened the door, grabbed the towels, and scowled out at her. “How is that?” she demanded.

“They keep a count of suicides!” Erica reported, laughing.

Lydia pulled the towel around her. “Really? How many?”

“According the clerk? One hundred ninety-eight over the past forty years… ‘and _counting_ ’,” she repeated, making quotations with her fingers.

“Delightful,” Lydia drawled, slamming the door shut in Erica’s face.

Allison frowned. “Cassie, what are--?” But the woman was already gone. Her frown deepening, Allison went to the door, checked outside, then closed the door and dead-bolted it.

“Is Ms. Fearless Hunter actually scared?” Erica asked, laughing. “Come on, it’s a gimmick.”

“She is, unfortunately, right,” Lydia said, stepping out of the bathroom again with one towel tucked around her as she used another to pat at her hair. “One hundred ninety-eight in forty years averages to four-point-nine-five a year, which really isn’t that unusual. Pretending this place is spooky is probably the only thing keeping it in business.”

“Says the girl who said ‘I don’t like this place’ and ‘A lot can happen in one night’ the moment we drove up,” Erica reminded her, and Lydia shot her a look. “Anyway, desk lady with the throat thing insists that they’re the highest in California.”

Allison’s frown deepened even further. “I’m going to go call my dad,” she announced, grabbing her phone and heading toward the door.

Almost as soon as Allison closed the door behind her, Lydia suddenly turned, eyes scanning the room. “Did you hear something?” she asked.

Erica snorted. “Don’t act like I’m the jumpy one here,” she said, but Lydia ignored her, making her way over to the still and silent vent, as though convinced she could hear something. Erica could hear Lydia’s heart beginning to pound steadily faster. “Lydia?” she asked.

\-- --

Screaming.

Cassie raced toward the sound. Something was here. Something was here. And she was the only one left. The only one who could stop it.

The door was locked. It didn’t stay that way. She found Isaac Lahey thrashing on the bed, screaming and crying. She grabbed him by the shoulders, but he lashed out, swiping claws across her face.

She slapped him. “Isaac! Wake up!”

He blinked up at her. At the four deep, bloody gauges across her face, already dripping blood over her cheek, her chin, her neck at a truly alarming rate. In fact, some of it was falling on him. “I… oh god, did I--?”

“It’s fine,” she snarled. “Tell me what happened.”

“I slashed you across the face!” he cried in disbelief.

She rolled her eyes. “Before that, Isaac.”

\-- --

The girls arrived at the office only to find it empty with a sign saying the clerk would not return until 6am. “Well, there goes that,” said Lydia.

Allison stepped closer to the desk, staring at the wall. “Erica, you said the suicide number was framed on the wall?” she asked.

“Yeah, one ninety-eight,” she said, pointing. Then, her eyes flew open. “Hey! It changed!”

Lydia pursed her lips and crossed her arms, tilting her hips impatiently. “Are you sure you didn’t just remember wrong?”

“No, it changed!” Erica insisted angrily. “It was one ninety-eight! Now, it’s two-oh-one!”

“It went up by three,” Allison said. “Another three sacrifices.”

“Boyd!” Erica said, suddenly running out of the office, taking off faster than Lydia or Allison could even hope to keep up with. They exchanged concerned glances.


	4. My Sight Grew Dim

Cassie ran into Stiles -- actually _ran_ into him -- on the second floor walkway. She grabbed him to stop him where he was. “Where are you going?” she demanded.

He was staring at her wide-eyed. “What happened to your face?”

“Get back to your room,” she snarled. “Ke--" Her attention suddenly snapped toward a distant whirring sound. She turned back to him. “Back to your room,” she repeated before taking off.

He watched her go. “Yeeeeah…” he said to himself. “No way in _hell_.”

Cassie found the whirring in a room that was being remodeled. Ethan stood there, shirtless -- god, what was with these kids and clothes? -- and holding a Skilsaw, obviously determined to thrust it into his stomach.

Cassie didn’t even think twice about tackling him to the floor. His head hit the floor. _Hard._  The saw went through her right arm. She only barely bit back a scream, not wanting to wake the entire team and endanger _everyone_.

“Oh god!” Ethan exclaimed, scrambling out from under her.

“I’ll fix it,” she hissed through gritted teeth as she clutched her bloody stump of an arm. “Go get your brother.”

Ethan just kept staring at her. Specifically, he was staring at her arm.

“ETHAN!” she screamed. “Jesus Christ, you're an Alpha. You've seen a little blood before!”

“‘A little’?” he repeated. “You look like a Tarantino movie!”

Cassie laughed at that. She probably shouldn't have, but oh well. “I can fix it,” she gasped again. Her breathing was getting heavier. “But something is attacking the werewolves. And guess who’s also a werewolf?”

Ethan's eyes flew wide open. He took off running without a second thought.

“Good boy,” Cassie said, falling onto her back. Next to her lie her detached arm. She snickered again. This was way too familiar.

“Come on, Cassie, pull yourself together,” Marco teased as he cradled her head in his lap.

“Count on you to crack jokes at a time like this,” she grumbled.

“I have to,” he said. “I need you.”

Cassie shook her head. “You don’t need me,” she whispered. “You’re dead.”

“Yeah?” he said, looking amused. “Then, _I_ can’t save him, can I?”

Cassie’s eyes flew open. “Scott.”

“There’s my girl,” said Jake, grinning down at her proudly.

Cassie closed her eyes again and concentrated.

\-- --

“You!” Stiles shouted, leaving the girls to storm across the parking lot to Ethan and Aiden. “What the _hell_ are you two up to?” he demanded.

“What?” Ethan demanded irritably, holding his bloody and exhausted brother up with an arm draped around his shoulder. “What are you talking about?”

“This!” Stiles snapped, gesturing around him. “What the hell is happening?”

“You think I know?” Ethan demanded, gesturing to his brother. “Look at him!”

“Actually, I am looking,” Lydia said, catching up to them. “Those are claw marks on his stomach and his fingers are bloody, so I’m going to guess that he did that to himself. But that kind of attack doesn’t explain the blood _spray_ all over you.”

Ethan’s eyes widened, and he took a step back. “Uh…” he said.

“Oh, that is a guilty face if I ever saw one,” Stiles snarled.

“Guys!” Allison shouted to get their attention. She took off across the parking lot toward Erica and Boyd, who were absolutely soaking wet.

Catching sight of the twins, Erica growled, “What did you do to us?!”

“Will you-- We are _clearly_ also affected!” Ethan snapped.

“Where’s Isaac?” Boyd asked. “Where’s Scott?”

As if to answer them, a howl pierced the night. “Isaac!” Erica cried, and she and Boyd immediately took off toward the sound, Allison on their heels and Stiles right after her. Allison and Stiles might not have had Boyd and Erica's werewolf speed, but they certainly had the adrenaline and determination to get them as close as humanly possible.

They found Isaac pacing wildly in front of Scott, who was standing next to the bus with a road flare in hand, his body soaked and dripping with gasoline. Isaac turned to them, terrified. “I don’t know what to do!” he cried. “I don’t know what to do! I don’t know what to do!” And Erica pulled him into a hug, trying to get him away, but Isaac refused to move any further from Scott.

“Scott…” Allison whispered, approaching carefully. “Scott?”

Scott glanced at her. He looked… He looked morose. Despairing. Totally, inconceivably lost. “There’s no hope,” he muttered.

“What do you mean, Scott?” she demanded. “There's always hope.”

“Not for me,” he said. “Not for all these people dying.”

“They’re not your fault, Scott,” she said. “You know they’re not your fault.”

“I’m not even fighting anymore,” he said. “I’m helpless. I’m watching everyone leave.”

Allison shook her head, and Stiles stepped forward. A flinch in Scott made his audience gasp. But, for the time being, he was remaining still. “Scott, listen to me, okay?” Stiles said. “This isn't you, all right? This is someone inside your head telling you to do this. Okay?” He motioned for Scott to hand over the road flare. “Now… just…”

“What if it isn't?” Scott insisted. “What if it is just me? What if doing this is actually the best thing that I could do for everyone else?” He was in tears, but he kept going. “It all started that night, the night I got bitten. You remember the way it was before that? You and me, we were… we were… we were nothing. We weren't popular. We weren't good at lacrosse. We weren't important. We were no one.

“Maybe I should just be no one again. No one at all.”

Stiles couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t just stand there while foul lies poured across the near-holy lips of Scott McCall. “Scott, just listen to me, okay?” he said, stepping forward again. “You’re not no one. Okay?” Another step. “You’re someone. You’re…” Another step. “Scott, you’re everything to me, and I need you. Scott…” Mere inches separated them now. “I need you. I love you so much.” He reached out and grabbed Scott’s wrist to keep it from moving. “Please… Please don’t ever go anywhere without me.”

And then he kissed him. Deeply. Desperately. And, miraculously, Scott kissed him back with the same desperation.

And then someone wrenched the flare out of Scott’s hand. The moment they turned in surprise to Cassie, she delivered a vicious punch directly to Scott’s jaw, sending him right to the ground. She then turned to Stiles. “Do I need to hit you, too?” she demanded.

“No, ma’am,” he said, throwing up his hands as though that stood even a chance of adequately defending him from her. “Not magically suicidal, ma’am.”

“Really?” she said. “Because that sounded suicidal.”

“I’m over it,” he promised.

“Yeah,” Scott groaned, picking himself up. “Me, too.”

“Is it over?” Aiden asked.

Cassie and the others turned to see Ethan helping Aiden toward the rest of the group. Her eyes scanned over them. “You took your time,” she grunted.

Ethan shrugged. “I wasn’t sure coming over here was a good idea,” he admitted.

“Awe, just because you accidentally sliced my arm off with a power saw?” she asked as though offended that he might assume such a thing. She raised her now sleeveless right arm, displaying how healthy and intact it was. Her bomber jacket appeared to have been abandoned at some point. “I told you I could fix it.”

“You reattached your arm?” Lydia said in disbelief.

“No,” Cassie said flatly, glancing back at her. “I grew a new one. I can go pick up the old one if you don’t believe me.”

“Oh god,” Stiles said, sounding like he was going to vomit at the thought. “Please don’t.”

“Actually, that reminds me of a story,” Cassie said, turning back to the twins. “Once upon a time,” she said, stepping closer to them, “Melissa and I had the same best friend. Her name was Rachel. And once upon a time, Rachel and I were in battle together against bad guys so bad that, were you to face them, you would finally realize what rookies you actually are,” she snarled, and the twins exchanged worried glances with each other.

Cassie continued, “So anyway, we’re in battle, and this guy, this lizard guy covered in blades, he takes off Rachel’s arm. Just slices it clean off. And you know what she does? She picks it up and beats him with it until he’s dead.”

Another worried glance is exchanged. “Is there a moral to this story?” Aiden asked warily.

Cassie shoved the still-lit road flare into the palm of her hand to put it out. “Moral of the story is 'Get the fuck on the bus,'” she snarled.

“Yes, ma’am,” the terrified twins promptly responded, racing into the bus just to get away from her.

Boyd leaned forward toward Scott. “What is she?” he whispered.

“An angel,” Scott said with a wide grin.

Cassie tossed the flare as far away as possible and turned back to them. Her eyes combed over the group yet again. “You’re sure you’re all fine now?” Cassie asked.

Scott looked down at himself. “I… I could probably use a hose, actually,” he admitted.

“It was only the werewolves who were affected,” said Allison. “We have all of them now.”

“Um, /hey/,” Erica objected.

“All the boy werewolves,” Allison corrected. “For some reason.”

“No,” Cassie said thoughtfully. “All the wolves on the bus. Ethan, Aiden! Get off the bus again!” she called. “Until we can isolate the cause of this, everyone’s sleeping outside.”

“Well, good thing you’re not werewolf enough to be affected,” Stiles teased. Behind him, Ethan and Aiden warily exited the bus, trying to keep the group between them and Cassie.

“I am affected,” Cassie told him coolly. “Pain hasn’t turned it off for me.”

“Maybe it’s your high tolerance?” Allison suggestion, eying Cassie’s burnt hand. Cassie followed her gaze. Slowly, the hand reformed into a paw, then changed back again into a totally healthy hand. “Well…” said Allison. “That’s new.

“You’re really affected?” Scott asked worriedly.

“Yeah, I’m hallucinating my ass off right now,” Cassie said, glancing around. “Lots of dead people who can’t shut the fuck up.” She glanced back at him and shrugged. “Sorry. It’s gotten me a little grumpy. Not to mention that I almost lost five people today.” There was a hint of anger in her statement, though she couldn’t truly blame the children for what had happened.

Scott glanced down at his feet guiltily. “But I don’t understand,” Lydia pressed. “If you’re affected, why haven’t you lost control?”

“Because when you’re fighting a war, you don’t stop to scream,” she said stonily.

Scott looked up again, worried again. “Cassie… This isn’t a war,” he reminded her.

She seemed confused for a second, then she shook her head. “Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, I know that.”

The teens exchanged significant glances, but Isaac pointed past Cassie. “Hey, what’s that?” he asked.

Cassie turned to see bright lights driving up the road toward them. She squinted toward them, hand held over her eyes. As the vehicles rolled in toward the parking lot, her eyes widened. Urgently, she turned toward the teens. “Do not move, and do not speak,” she hissed at them. “And absolutely do not under any circumstances let anyone know that you’re werewolves.”

Behind her, a Jeep rolled to a stop. Cassie turned to face it. The bright headlights blinked off. Out stepped a tall, stout, older man. He was wearing an Air Force uniform. “Colonel,” Cassie greeted stiffly.

“Sosanya,” he greeted just as stiffly. His eyes combed the group behind her. “May I ask what’s happening here?”

“Just fulfilling my duty as team chaperone,” she said. “Preventing teenage pranks.”

“I smell gasoline,” said the Colonel.

Cassie shrugged nervously. “Kids these days.”

“You know,” he said, glancing briefly down at the file in his hands, “I never really took you for the soccer mom type.”

“Not to be rude, sir,” she said, “but I don’t care what you took me for, and I would like to know the reason for this visit.”

The colonel nodded, stepped forward, and handed her the file. “It’s not a mission,” he said. “It’s…” He was interrupted by a small gasp of disbelief from Cassie. “Well, you can see what it is. Obviously, we felt the need to call you in. We have two hours ’til landing. Base will lock down indefinitely immediately after, for security. You come now or never.”

Cassie nodded, closed the file, and headed forward to join him.

“Cassie!” Scott shouted after her in disbelief. She turned back to him. “You can’t just go! Not like this! Not with them!”

The colonel rolled his eyes. “Every teenager thinks they’re anti-establishment,” he muttered.

Cassie sighed. “I’m sorry, Scott. You deserve to be upset,” she said, “but nothing you say could possibly stop me. Tell your mom I’m sorry and that it’s over. He…” She glanced at the colonel next to her with a bitter sort of sadness. “Deaton was right about me.” She turned away again and climbed into the Jeep.

And that was it.


End file.
